A Christmas Carol
by Glorytommy
Summary: Oliver James Davis, had no love for Christmas... but a visit from a few unearthly beings may be able to help change his tune and right his ways. [AU]
1. The Warning

A/N: Seeing as it is Christmas time, I thought I'd give my readers a treat seeing as I've been slacking on updating my stories… Ehem. But let's not speak of that right now. Here is an AU Ghost Hunt Version of Dicken's classic _A Christmas Carol_. I've worked super hard on it just for you! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ghost Hunt or A Christmas Carol.**

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**A Christmas Carol:**

_The Warning_

Christmas Eve.

What was a joyous day for most people seemed like any other day behind the closed doors of Davis Inc.

The wonderful merriment of the rest of the town didn't seem to seep into any nook or cranny of the small office. There were no decorations in sight, or even an exchanging of wishes for Happy Holidays—and there hadn't been for four years.

Not since the untimely death of the beloved Eugene Davis.

Those who didn't know Davis Inc. before the death of Gene wouldn't have believed how lively the place once was. Oliver and Eugene Davis started their business as Co-Owners, Oliver was the brains of the operation but Gene had the people skills that were needed for their line of work—even back then Oliver wasn't much of a people person. The dynamic duo was the talk of the town within a few mere months of opening, even for men so young there seemed to be no case they couldn't solve.

It was on one of these cases that they met a young widow by the name of Mai Taniyama. Her husband had been killed in an alley on his way home from work. Sadly, it had just been a product of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and the discovery hadn't helped the grieving process. However, It was due to this unfortunate encounter that Mai would come to work for the Davis brothers as an assistant. She had a son and was in need of a place to work, they'd been in a rut even when her husband was still living and Eugene, having never been one to ignore a person in need, offered her a place in their growing business.

With Mai on the team, she and Gene made combine attempts to soften up Noll's hard outer shell. They were both alike in most ways and knew that Oliver wasn't as bad as he made himself seem. It was their mission to make _him_ see that.

And, at one point they did succeed. Oliver had lighted up—slightly.

But not long after the achievement, Eugene Davis was found dead, his body floating in the city's local river jut a few blocks away from the office. It had been the only case that Davis Inc. had never able to solve and Noll took it the hardest. He turned into an even grumpier man than before and closed himself off from those around him. He began to wear black every day, in mourning of his other half, and kept himself as busy as possible.

This day, in particular, Oliver was keeping himself extremely preoccupied. Christmas time held memories that he'd rather not remember and working was a good way to get the mind off of those types of things. Busy work made him content.

Though of course, content could never really last for every long on such a despicable holiday. Not when it came to him, at least.

Noll soon found this to be true as he heard the light ding of the front door's bell chime and saw the familiar unwelcomed face of his cousin through the opened door of his personal office within his quaint building.

"Merry Christmas to the both of you!" Yasuhara cried, with all his Christmas spirit as if he was the embodiment of the holiday himself.

Oliver merely humphed and Mai—who had been silently organizing files—greeted him with a light and soft, "Merry Christmas."

Flashing the assistant a smile, the jolly male turned his attention to his kin and walked toward him. "Do I not get a 'Merry Christmas' from you dear cousin?"

The detective kept his eyes on the paperwork in front of him, "For what reason must I wish Christmas to be merry? It is a day just like any other day."

"Oh, you don't mean that."

"But I do." He replied simply.

"Don't be so cross, Cousin. Christmas is a time for family and happiness. I'm sure even _you've_ got something to be happy about." Yasu chimed placing two hands on the man's desk and leaning in.

"It seems you've been fooled. Christmas is merely a time were stores and toy companies make hundreds off of poor souls like you, who buy gifts because they feel they need to. There's no happiness in wasting money you don't have on things you doing need.—It's a sham, all of it."

"There is a meaning deeper than that—than material things and money. That's all you see isn't it? Money." His cousin sighed, displeased. "With a one track mind like that, it's a _wonder_ why you haven't married." The sarcastic remark earned a light giggle from the assistant.

Noll gave her an icy glare before turning his attention back to the man in front of him, "My marital status is none of your business."

Yasuhara chuckled, "Come now Cousin. Don't be so angry." Raising to his full height, he slipped his hands into his pockets, "But, anyway. I came to invite you to a Christmas party. Won't you go? Everyone is supposed to be coming."

"As much as I would _love_ to come to one of your Christmas parties, I am much too busy." It was an excuse of course. Who was truly busy on Christmas day unless they let themselves be?

"But Aunt and Uncle were hoping to see you, you never write."

"You'll just have to tell them I cannot make it."

"But they are you're _parents_, Oliver."

"Does that make them special?" The stubborn grump rolled his eyes impatiently. He was already growing tired of the conversation.

Caught off guard, Yasuhara grew a bit solemn for a moment, but chuckled despite himself trying to make light of the situation. "…Madoka would have scolded you for such a comment."

"I am not afraid of the dead," Oliver retorted, taking an annoyed sip of his usual cup of tea.

What was left of his cousin's cheery mood completely wavered at this comment and, sighing, he started to leave but paused in the doorway. "Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

"_Good afternoon_, Cousin." The detective stressed, ignoring his question with a wave of the hand.

The visitor gave a light smile. "Alright, and Merry Christmas."

After changing a few words with Mai, the man left with pep in his step, despite his failed attempt to invite his dear family member.

Almost immediately after Noll's cousin left, another gentleman walked in, who just so happened to be the Reverend of the local church. His name was John Brown, a well known face among the town and a respected figure in the community. Once a Priest, he had let himself step down from that post and become a Reverend in order to marry his wife, Masako. This action had not damped the image his followers had of him, if anything it had seemed to strength it, as it showed that even holy ones are human and fall in love.

This well-known man—even to Noll who was not in the least bit religious—greeted both of the figures occupying the space with a warm smile and an Australian accent, a small pair books in hand. He turned his attention to Oliver, "Mr. Davis. You look well, as always."

At the sound of his name, the young grouch sat up a bit taller and placed his papers down on his desk. "As do you, Father Brown."

The blond held up a hand, "Please. Call me Reverend, I'm not a Father anymore."

"Aha Yes. Of course, Reverend." He leaded forward resting his chin on his clasped hands. "What business do you have with me?"

"Well, you see," The reverend began with a hopeful expression, "This year the Church is collecting donations for the poor. We feel that now is a good time, if any, to ask around for contributions as it is the time of year when peoples' moods are at their most charitable." He swallowed hard, feeling a bit nervous, "I was wondering… If you'd be willing to donate? I can assure you it is for a good cause."

There was a pause as Oliver shifted in his seat, and leaned back. His mood still sour from speaking to his cousin. "You see Reverend. My money is tied up in other things at the moment… I couldn't possibly offer anyone else a cent."

"But, Mr. Davis. If you don't mind me saying, you make plenty. Could you not spare even a bit?"

"Not even that." Truth be told, he could have probably spared something... but all of his funds were still tied up in trying to find his brother's murder. It was all he did during his free time, even if it had happened four years ago. He was stretching himself thin, both physically and financially, but the reverend didn't need to know that. He could think him stingy if he so wished, it was of no consequence to Noll.

"I see…" The humble man frowned only slightly, but kept his polite nature. "I must be on my way then. Good day."

"Good day."

On his way out, Reverend Brown was stopped by Mai, who held a small amount of money in her hands. The amount was hardy enough for a loaf of bread. "Wait, John." She called as she presented it to him. "I'll donate."

The holy man gave her a pained smile, "I can't take this, Mai. You need it for Takeshi and the girls."

"There are those, much worse off than we are."

He gave her a light pat on the head but still did not take it, "I'll see you soon. Masako and Grace want to visit."

The brunette smiled, albeit with slight disappointment, "Yes. They've mentioned it."

The man exited, with a final good bye to them both. The two were left to finish the day in the usual silence that occupied the office and soon it was time to close up shop, Noll stood and glanced over in his assistant's direction. "I assume you want tomorrow off?"

"If it's not too much trouble." Mai nodded, wrapping her thin coat around her torso.

"…Just be here early the next day." He grumbled turning back to douse the fire in the hearth.

"Of course." She smiled lightly and made her way out the office, but paused slightly to glance back and give a, "Merry Christmas, Naru."

At the use of his nickname he turned to look at her questionably, only to find her already gone. It was rare for her to call him that anymore. It had stopped when... well...

Brushing the thought from his mind, Oliver grabbed his winter coat and exited the workplace, making sure to properly lock up before heading home.

The walk was not far, as he liked living within short distance of the office, but it was a cold one. If possible, the chill from the morn had grown considerably colder. So much so that Oliver himself—a man who did not get cold easily—felt himself shiver a little from within his thick coat.

Ignoring the light murmur of Christmas cheer filling the cobbled streets, Oliver made it to his home in remarkable time. Walking up to the gate of his slightly large edifice, Noll removed the keys out of his pocket and, as soon as he made it to the front door, slid the object into its rightful place within the lock. As he went to turn it, Oliver had the strangest feeling of being watched. However, as he glanced around his surroundings he found no one. Even as he entered his bricked abode the feeling stayed.

It continued with him as he ate his dinner quietly, slowly mouthing down a plate full of leftover bangers and mash. Annoyingly enough, the sensation grew, causing him to leave his plate half-finished in the kitchen sink. His appetite lost due to this uncharacteristic feeling of paranoia.

The house seemed much darker than before. Though darkness had always been his comfort, it seemed almost suffocating now and for a brief moment he felt like he'd seen the glow of a pair of orbs watching him as he made his way up the staircase toward his room. He, being a man of logic, brushed it off as fatigue playing tricks on him. After all, working most of the day had depleted his energy reserves and now he was simply tired.

Making it to his room, Oliver immediately tossed his suit jacket on the edge of his bed and relieved himself of his tie. Sliding his shoes off, he unbuttoned the first two buttons of his dress shirt and slouched into the comfort of his favorite seat with a relaxed sigh.

"Long day?" A familiar voice seemed to state out of thin air and due to the man's grogginess it took a moment to realize that there wasn't anyone in the room with him that could have possibly asked the question. With a start, he followed the direction of the voice to a ghostly image of a figure, who shared his physical features, leaning over the head of his chair.

The figure, however, was smiling. Something Oliver hadn't done in a while, but something his brother used to do very often. Leaning away in shock, his lips parted to intake a sharp breath and the detective spoke to the apparition. "…Gene?"

The specter chuckled and rounded the chair to sit promptly on its arm. "I don't think I've ever seen you so surprised, Noll."

"…but how…?" The unusually surprised young man questioned, heart racing. His brother… His _dead_ brother was sitting there next to him. It felt like foreign territory to see the unexplained before him and as he took in the sight it became more and more convincing that this was not just a hallucination. "Have you not… passed on?"

"I have not." His smile saddened. "Something holds me back."

"What do you mean?"

Eugene's ghostly features hardened, "Noll. I don't have much time, so I need you to listen."

There was a hesitant, curt nod in response.

"I've watched over you these years and I'm worried for you. I have met many souls who walked the same path as you do and let me tell you, the life that awaits you after death is not a happy one." Standing up and walking—or rather floating—toward the window he clenched his fingers. "Those that live a selfish, self-filling life are cursed to pay for it in death. They are forced to watch all the happiness they could have had, had they shown a little compassion." The young ghost seemed to get more frustrated with every word.

"Where exactly are you going with—"

"Listen!" His brother cried, trying to slam a fist on the window seal only for the appendage to go straight though. "Oliver James Davis, if you don't change your ways you'll end up just like them! Cursed to walk the world bound by chains as heavy as their sins!" His rant was followed by a coughing fit. Water that held a ghostly glow upheaved from his gut and fell in galloons upon the hardwood floor before fading through it. Noll moved to rise and come to his side, but the ghost held up a hand, the coughing soon residing. Wiping his mouth he continued in a much calmer tone, "I have come to give you a warning. There is a chance for you yet, my brother." He held up three fingers. "You will be visited by three spirits."

"…Three spirits? What chance is this?" The detective questioned, clenching his hands. "It sounds more like trouble."

"Without them, you cannot hope to shake the fate that awaits for you beyond the grave." He spoke simply, crossing his arms. "The first you can expect to see tomorrow at one, the second on the next day at the same hour, and the third upon the next night when the clock strikes twelve."

"Can they not show up at once? Save time?"

Gene motioned to him, "Come here."

Noll stood and complied, taking place by his brother's side.

"Look." The phantom waved his hand and the window slid up, the winter chill rushing into the space as it did so.

They both gazed out and saw a heartbreaking sight, many spirits littered the air, all bound and chained with miserable expressions. All moaned their woes loud and, uncaring who listened, pleaded with whatever god had punished them to show some mercy on their retched souls. They went about wanting to help those in trouble, but held no power to interfere. The sight hit a cord within Oliver, but he could not decipher the feeling and he found himself wanting to look away, but not being able to.

Clearing his throat, Eugene got Noll's attention. "I hope you remember what I've told you… You won't see me again."

With that he left, jumping out the window and into the night, he and the other spirits fading into the wind.

Oliver couldn't help but note his brother had never told him why he'd been kept from passing on.


	2. The First of Three

**A Christmas Carol:**

The First of Three

Oliver awoke to find that he had fallen asleep in his chair. Sitting up he paused, eyebrows furrowing as he began recalling the strange occurrence from just hours before. It felt as if he'd dreamt the whole thing… that was really the only logical answer he could make for his confusion. How else would he have seen the face of his dead brother other than it to have been the trickery of some subconscious thought?

Glancing at his bedroom window the detective was perplexed to see the sky still as dark as before his slumber. He was not sure how long he had slept but he was sure that daylight should have broken. Suddenly fixed on knowing the time, he fished in his pocket for his timepiece and gave it a glance. Though the motion only increased his confusion. The clock read midnight, but he was sure he had at least gone to bed at some time past two. Shoving the device back in its place, he ran a hand through his hair. The clock must have been wrong, or perhaps he himself was mistaken.

Getting up from his seat, Oliver changed into his nightclothes and slipped into bed. Thoughts of Gene's ghost still lingered on his mind and as much as he tried to convince himself that it was only a moment of delusion, he kept replaying the conversation he'd had over and over again.

It was only until a quarter past did he remember the warning of his ghostly visitors and that the first was due rather soon. The realization unnerved him. He was still skeptical that the situation could be real, but there was a chance and even if it was a small one, it put him on edge.

And so, the only thing he could do was wait. Grabbing the pocket watch he placed on his nightstand, Noll held it close, checking the time every now and then. The closer the small hand came to one, the tenser he felt himself become. It was not that he was scared of the unknown… In fact, he was rather intrigued by it. It was just that all of this was on a personal level. If he were just an observer it would be a different story, but he was part of the main plot—in a sense—and personal matters were never his cup of tea.

When the time ticked one, Noll closed his eyes and sighed, a wave of relief washing over him. "So it was a foolish dream…"

"Was it?" A sassy, amused feminine voice cooed and Oliver froze, a slight warmth burning to his right.

Slowly sitting up, he opened his eyes and turned to the source, spotting the most unusual creature laying at his side. Though, 'creature' he supposed was not fitting, for the figure seemed very human-like. She—he supposed by her shape and voice that it was a she—was dressed in a red gown, a gold sash tied around her waist, held up by two thin straps. Her feet were bare, toenails painted in a red that matched both her gown and ruby lips. Though, the most mystical feature about her was her red hair. Her locks moved like flames and crackled like a fireplace.

Taking a moment to collect himself, he soon spoke, "You are one of the spirits I was warned about, correct?"

"I am." She spoke confidently, almost vainly.

"What are you?"

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past." The spirit sat up and leaned forward playfully, "Your past."

"Mine…?"

The woman nodded and clasped a hand around his arm. "Come, Handsome. Walk with me," her ruby lips stretched into a playful smile.

The man felt oddly compelled to comply and uttered no word of protest, though if he had he doubted it would have mattered. This phantom seemed to have her own agenda and though her voice was soft, there was an attitude to it.

Half expecting to be led toward the door, Noll frowned as he was taken toward the window. He turned to her, "You do not expect me to be able to fly? I am no spirit." There was no uneasiness in his voice, but his words hinted toward it.

The vision chuckled and placed a hand upon his heart. "Fear not. My touch is all you need."

The two soon phased through the brick and wallpaper of the old building and found themselves in another place, one very familiar to Oliver. A place of warmth and love. He took one look at the long narrow hallway and his eyes widened a fraction, "This is…"

"…your adoptive parents' home." The spirit finished correctly. Thought it wasn't just the fact that they were in his parents' home that startled him, but the fact that he spotted things that had once existed in his younger years and no longer existed in the present. "How long has it been, do you suppose, since you've seen it exactly like this?"

"Twenty years..."

At that moment, the two caught a glimpse of Luella Davis walking briskly down the hall soon followed by the similarly familiar face of Madoka Mori, who both held excited smiles. They spoke expressively, the subject going unheard by the silent spectators, but stopped as they came to the door to the spirits' left. "They cannot see or hear us." It answered an unspoken question. "Can you remember this day?"

Oliver didn't answer but instead crept closer as the door was opened and the women stepped inside. Two pajamaed identical boys were found in a far corner of the room, one of them smiled and went to greet the two while the other stayed seated, nose burred in a book.

The more lively boy—Eugene—grinned, "Is it time already?"

Luella smiled with a nod, "Yes. Martin has finally gotten up." The blond leaned over to her companion with a whisper, "It's their first real Christmas here, you know?"

The younger version of Gene turned to his silent brother in the corner, "Well, come on Noll!"

Oliver's younger self snorted and shut his book, "I don't see why you're in such a hurry… it's not like your gifts are going to get up and walk away."

"Who knows, maybe they will." Madoka chuckled, following a hyped up Gene out the door.

Older Oliver's eyes stayed trained on the woman as she left the room. "That woman..."

"Your Aunt, Luella's sister, and the only one who had the skill and nerve to counter your remarks, wasn't she?" The spirit asked and was answered with a nod, "Had she children?"

"One…" He explained, eyes shifting back over to his former self. "Yasuhara."

"I see." The spirit glanced at his troubled expression, only noticeable by the knit of his eyebrows and his tightly pressed lips. "Something the matter?"

"It's nothing." He told her, tuning back in to the situation in front of them.

Luella glanced toward her son, "Coming?"

The child nodded, "In a minute."

Walking over, the woman planted a light kiss on young Noll's forehead, "Well, be quick about it. I'm not sure how long Gene is willing to wait."

The onlookers watched as the lady left the room and brought their attention to the young boy who turned to gaze out the window.

"He's wondering how long this will last…" The older Oliver explained to the creature next to him. "…being here with Luella and Martin."

"Oh?" The spirit commented her gaze not leaving the younger boy. "And does it last?"

"…It does."

"Is that a good thing?" She questioned wistfully.

"It is."

"I see." The creature placed a hand back on his forearm. "Come. There is another Christmas you must see."

At these words, the scenery around them changed. The two soon found themselves in a much earlier version of a Davis Inc. Christmas. The room was bright and inviting, decorations were hung with care, and the light melody of music was heard over the chatter of figures mingling and dancing, a faint smell of perfume and liquor mixed in the air.

A now twenty year old Eugene and Oliver Davis stood side by side off to the side of the party, the former looking a bit merrier than the latter. The older twin nudged his brother and discreetly pointed in the direction of a fair woman that gave the resemblance of a doll and who seemed to be sneaking a peek in their direction every now and then, a cheeky grin prominent on his face. "Looks like Masako has her eye on you, brother."

"Is that so?" The amateur detective commented dully before taking a sip of tea, obviously not interested in the topic.

"You should go and dance with her."

"I do not wish to dance." He retorted, eyes fixated on the liquid in his cup.

"And why not?" Gene questioned taking the glass from his brother and setting it down, "Its Christmas Eve for God's sake. Just dance with someone. It doesn't have to be with Masako…" His eyes scanned the room before falling on a familiar brunette turning down a dance from Yasuhara for the umpteenth time. "How about Mai?"

Former Oliver followed his gaze, "What about Mai?"

"Dance with her." He said simply, "Won't you?"

"Isn't it you who wants to dance with her, Gene?" The man observed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

A surprised blush flushed onto the elder brother's face. "I-I can't dance, Noll." He cleared his throat, "Besides, it is you who she wishes to dance with."

"Oh? Has she told you this?"

"Aha… well… no…" Gene scratched the back of his head.

"Well then? What are you wasting my time for? Go dance." Taking his cup back, Oliver shoved him lightly.

Eugene scoffed and straightened his shirt, "How did this become about me, I wonder…" He muttered before waving his way through the guests and over to their assistant.

Taking another sip of tea, Former Oliver watched as his brother and employee exchanged a few words before joining each other in a dance. It was obvious that neither knew what they were doing. Feet were stepped on and people were bumped into, but the two of them just chuckled about it and gave embarrassed glances of apology for being so horrible.

Older Oliver pursed his lips slightly, "My brother… he grew to love that woman very much."

"He was not the only one." The ghost commented pointedly, but he didn't want to think of what she meant by it.

The music died down and the tapping of a wine glass was heard. All attention went to a slightly tipsy Madoka standing up on a desk chair. "Attention everyone!" She slurred slightly, a smiled forming on her lips. "Let's all give a great big thank you to Eugene and Oliver for throwing such a wonderful Christmas party!" She cooed and everyone cheered.

Eugene scratched the back of his head in modesty and chuckled an amused "Someone get her down from there before she hurts herself!"

It was former Oliver that helped her down, as it was his chair she'd chosen to stand on. Yasuhara was soon by her side to persuade her to stop drinking for a bit. Madoka merely pated both boys on the cheek and gave them a mischievous smile.

"She was fighting cancer." Older Oliver stated, taking in the woman's sickly appearance.

"She is quite the fighter." The fiery spirit commented.

"She was…" He agreed, correcting her, and added an almost solemn, "She dies before the New Year."

The party continued on with much cheer and merriment. Faces of people he hadn't spoken to in years passed by his vision, everyone laughing and having a wonderful time. Eugene always knew how to throw a good party…

This soon died down and people began to leave. Goodbyes were given and soon it was just Gene, Mai, and Former Oliver left to clean up the mess, the merrier two of the three deciding to play rather than clean. The ghostly onlookers watched as they danced to nonexistent music around in a circle, arms linked. Grabbing Former Oliver they brought him in to the middle of the circle, unwillingly, and trapped him there. He glared. They laughed.

The spirit smiled and glanced at Older Oliver whose eyes stayed trained on the scene. Placing a hand on his forearm she gained his attention, "Come. My time is dwindling. There is more to see."

Their surroundings morphed yet again, the walls of the office changing into trees covered with the snow that now fell down all around them. They were outside now, the benches and gas lamps suggesting a park. Oliver felt no chill, but his mouth let out puffs of smoke as he breathed.

"Naru!" The voice of Mai rang out sounding panicked and hurt as she ran passed Older Oliver and the Christmas Spirit to catch up to the retreating back of Former Oliver. The younger man paused at the sound of his name, stopping but not turning around. Mai halted a few feet away from him. "Didn't you hear me?" She questioned. "I just said _'I love you'_… How can you walk away without even a word?"

The Oliver next to the spirit tensed, immediately recognizing this moment in time.

"Me or Gene?" Former Oliver questioned, back still facing the girl.

Mai was a taken back. "…Excuse me?"

"Are your ears not working today, or are you just so daft you can't understand three little words?" He questioned, turning slightly on his heel to face her. He seemed much harsher than usual.

"How could you ask that?" She huffed, voice cracking.

Former Oliver slid his hands into his pockets. "Ponder it. Two men, same face, same occupation, same income. One has a terrible personality and the other a charming one… Which would you choose? Logically the charming one."

Mai laughed bitterly at this. "Logically the charming one?" She echoed with a scoff. "Why, then, have I come to you? Why have a declared my love for _you_?"

"Perhaps because you are confused."

"_Confused_ you say!" She seemed to find this terribly funny, tears were falling now. "I speak from the heart. There is no need for the logical in the domain in which emotions rule. My choice has always been you. Have I not already turned down your brother's affections? Why, pray tell, do you think that was?" He didn't answer so she continued. "Because my affections are for you and no one else. Terrible personality and all."

"…Then you are a masochist."

"And you a cynical sadist."

"Perhaps…" Former Oliver agreed, turning away. "Then, you should know that I have no need for your affections. You're wasting your time." With that he walked away, leaving Mai to her tears.

"Poor girl." The sprite cooed in either pity or sympathy.

"No more." Older Oliver spoke, voice soft as his head lowered so that his bangs covered his eyes. "Take me home."

"I can't. Not yet. There is more to see."

"No. No more." He said firmly, turning to her. His eyes showed something, but whether it be sorrow or anger she did not know.

The spirit ignored his words and took him by both arms to see the next shadow of his past.

Their surroundings changed yet again, this time taking them to the side of a river. Though no longer snowing, a white blanket covered the ground, dirty and deformed from being disturbed. A crowd gathered around a part of the bank that had not frozen in the winter's chill, though most (some easyily recognizable as reporters) stood back behind a makeshift barricade. The closest to the river were a few police and the same two figures from the precious vision of his past.

Mai was crying again this time too, but much more hysterically as she clung to one of the officers for support, unable to stand upright on her own. Her loud sobs caught the attention of most of the people around them, and no doubt broke more than a few hearts from the sight.

Former Oliver stood closer to the river in front of a wet and pale body hidden under a tarp. His face, though solemn, gave nothing away to his thoughts. But the hands clenched at his sides betrayed him as his knuckles turned white. His stare stayed intense as he nodded once to the officer beside him, allowing the man to knell down in front of the body and pull back the tarp.

Eyes devoid of any of the lively spark they'd once held stared back up at them. Lips tinted blue, his expression held one of both pain and surprise. His clothes were soaked to the bone and torn from what looked like a struggle and though skin now deathly pale and blue eyes dimmed, it was without a doubt the body of his brother. Eugene Davis.

Former Oliver confirmed the body's identity and, after exchanging a few more words with the officer, he walked away. His pace brisk and mechanical, he didn't even double back to check on Mai, who had now fully collapsed to her knees at the sight of the body. He headed toward Older Oliver and the Christmas Spirit, passing right through them with a ridged demeanor and glossy eyes with unshed tears that no one else could see.

The spirit touched her silent passenger on the shoulder and he turned to her with harsh eyes. His lips pressed together, forming a thin line. "Did I not say no more, Spirit?!" He questioned harshly and pushed her away from him with unnerving force that surprised even him.

The fiery Spector stumbled, eyes looking in slight surprise. He reached out to grab her on instinct, however she slipped right through his fingers. Smiling, she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the river. Her fire extinguished, body dispersing into steam as soon as the waters touched her.

As she disappeared, the vision of his past faded into blackness and he grew extremely tired.

Oliver felt himself sway and he fell into a deep sleep as he collapsed onto something rather soft.


	3. The Second of Three

**A Christmas Carol:**

_The Second of Three_

Oliver awoke with a sudden start, his chest pounding and satin sheets pooling around his waist as he sat upright. It took him a moment to realize he was back in bed, and another moment to stop clenching his fists. Leaning back against his headboard, he breathed heavily, beads of sweat falling from his brow as he stared at the ceiling.

A bad dream.

That's what he wanted to call it, but he knew it wasn't anything of the sort. Everything had been too clear, too vivid, and too real. And as he came to accept this fact he realized that, if he was to believe what he was told, he still had two more spirits to meet with.

The thought didn't sit well with him, naturally. He'd rather not have to deal with any more of this… but Noll was smart enough to know that he didn't have much say in the matter.

Glancing at the timepiece still dormant on his nightstand, Oliver found that it was, again, almost one in the morning. He did not want to think of how such a thing was possible, as it was obvious that spirits had some kind of power over time, but this unnerved him. He had less time to mentally prepare for the next spirit than he thought he would.

But, he supposed it didn't mean he couldn't still try. In an attempt to ready himself, Oliver took a seat at the edge of the bed, crossing his arms as he waited for the silence within the room to be interrupted.

Eventually, the clock struck one, but nothing happened. Not a sound was made, except the chime of a grandfather clock down the hall, and no figure appeared before him.

For a moment, Oliver believed he had been mistaken… perhaps the time was wrong… or perhaps it had really been a dream. As much as he would have loved to believe such a thing, he, unfortunately, knew better. And turning his head toward the adjourning door within his room, he found that he was right.

Oliver's eyes caught a warm and faint light shining underneath it. Knowing that he had not caught the source himself, it wasn't a stretch to believe that it may have had something to do with his next visitor.

He waited a few more minutes, expecting something to burst into the room, but nothing happened. All the while in his waiting, the light shone invitingly through the crack of his door. His expression changing from exhausted to annoyed, Oliver rose to his feet and crossed the room, reaching for the knob.

"Enter, my good man!" a jovial voice boomed from behind the door, just as the detective's fingers skimmed the brass.

Without hesitation, Oliver threw open the door and stared with hidden bewilderment at the transformation of his study. Gaudy green and red decorations hung from the ceiling, large in size and draped with care. A feast, fit for a king, sat on a long table which took the place of his desk adjacent from a roaring fireplace. Overlooking it all was the tallest of Christmas trees, decorated with golden ornaments and fresh popcorn. The only thing missing from it was the topper, which sat in the hand of a tall man-like spirit in a green robe lined with white fur, standing on top of an even taller ladder.

"You are just in time, Mr. Davis. I am about to put the topper on," the spirit grinned, holding up the golden star-shaped object.

Upon closer examination, the spirit looked almost wild. From under a holly wreath, his brown uncombed hair fell just at his shoulders and a stud twinkled in one of his ears. His robe was slightly oversized and much too long, dragging on the floor even from his spot at the top of the ladder. Gray slacks pooled around ankles attached to bare feet which were just as bare as his exposed chest, the pants he wore hung off his hips, nearly falling had it not been for the rope tied around it like a makeshift belt. Attached was a rusted scabbard that held no weapon and seemed to have no other purpose other than for decoration.

"Would you like to do the honors?" the specter asked, shaking the ornament jovially. His question was met with silence and he chuckled, "No?" Not waiting for confirmation, the ghost wasted no time doing the task himself.

"I am a big fan, Oliver Davis. Love your work. But I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now," he chuckled, leaning back to look at the topper. "Does that look crooked to you?" Not waiting for an answer (not that he would have gotten one) he adjusted the star and leaned back again. "Be visited by three spirits? No, thank you. I spend enough time with them."

Satisfied with the tree, the spirit sat on the very top of the ladder and peered down at Oliver with a jolly smile, who stared back with no hint of merriment in his features. He was not happy in the slightest. The visions of the past the previous spirit had shown him still weighed on his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to be alone so that he could concentrate on bottling up the emotions she had stirred. But here he was, standing in front of another spirit who seemed even more ridiculous than the last.

"On with it," Oliver demanded, hands sliding into the pockets of his night clothes.

The spirit laughed at this. "You order me around as if I am an employee. Shall I call you Boss?" Sobering up after another moment, he leaned forward to let his arms rest on his knees. "Fine. I suppose you know why I am here. Call me the Ghost of Christmas Present!"

"_Spirit_," the young ravenette called up to the figure, his patience running thin, "whatever lesson you have come to teach me, teach it. I wish to get this over with quick, so that I may be alone with my thoughts. This night has given me much to think about."

Rising from the ladder, the spirit regarded him for a moment before hopping down and holding out his sleeve. "Touch my robe, then."

Oliver eyed him wearily with hidden uncertainly, before grabbing the fur of the ghost man's robe.

Slowly, their surroundings changed until they were outside, in the middle of an old cobbled street. The investigator instantly recognized it as one of the poorer residential areas in town.

"Where are we going?" He asked, releasing the spirit's sleeve. He didn't see what this had to do with him.

The specter merely smiled to himself and started a light stroll.

Reluctantly, Oliver followed watching with both irritation and curiosity as he sprinkled a sparkling substance from a horn, which he'd produced from within his robe, on every doorstep that they passed. "It's a blessing," the ghost-man explained, answering Oliver's unasked question. "A Christmas blessing."

"I see," was his only reply. Attention soon going to their surrounding.

Covered deep in snow, the buildings around them emitted a melancholy that couldn't be shaken. Most, if not all, the homes they passed were in shambles. Broken windows were boarded up to keep out the draft, paint peeled off the brick, and everything was covered in a layer of grime that wouldn't leave even with the elbow grease of ten housemaids.

And... yet, as depressing as it was, the people stayed indifferent to it. They did not move with broken spirits as most pictured the poor to do. With heads high they wished each other a merry Christmas as they passed, all rushing off to prepare for their holiday dinners while the children ran down the street, slipping and sliding as they pelted each other with balls of snow.

He didn't see how a mere holiday could make people so... happy. It was a time when people seemed to feel the need to forget their troubles for a moment in time. In truth, it wasn't real happiness they were feeling, but rather the illusion of it. As soon as the holidays were over, they'd go back to their dreary lives, working a job that would lead them nowhere until they were six feet under.

As the thought passed him, he paused in step as a familiar boy walked by his line of sight.

Mai's son.

Though he'd only met him a few times (and none since the death of his brother), the fact that he was the spitting image of his mother made him easy to spot.

Immediately Noll realized now what they were doing when the jolly spirit began to follow behind the youth, and frowned. However, his eyes didn't leave the tiny child in front of him.

If he remembered correctly, the boy was most likely six or seven but cursed with his mother's short stature and baby face he looked a few years younger than he should.

And yet, unlike the other children around them, the boy didn't stop to play in the snow, despite the calls from what Oliver assumed was his friends. Instead, he walked with the purpose and rush of the other adults, a small bread basket in hand as he hurried into one of the slightly better looking homes on the grimy street.

With a hesitation that only showed in the curl of his fingers, Oliver followed behind the Specter who headed into the home after the little boy, after sprinkling the dust from his horn to bless the house.

As they entered, the smell of a modest but well-cooked dinner filled the edifice. Having never stepped inside of Mai's home, the detective found himself examining the room. It was quaint and much cleaner on the inside than the outside. The home was two stories, but thin, as most row homes tended to be. With what little she could afford, his assistant had dressed her living/dining room in warm browns and given the place a very inviting effect. It was by no means lavish or the like, but one could tell she put care into her home.

Takeshi set the bread down on an already set table and ran into the kitchen where the woman of the home herself was cooking Christmas dinner. Mai broke out into a grin when she saw her son and, turning from her saucepan, she knelt down to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Welcome home."

The boy returned her grin and threw his arms around her. "I put the bread on the table, Mama."

"Wonderful. No trouble at the baker's then?"

Takeshi shook his head and leaned forward as if about to tell a secret. "No, Mr. Dickens even slipped us an extra roll for free!"

Mai chuckled. "Really? Wasn't that nice of him... We'll have to make him a card, now won't we?"

The boy nodded profusely, the idea of making a homemade card lighting a fire in him. When he began to ramble on about other people they had to make cards for, it was soon clear that he was a creative and considerate child. Not many people would name the postman as a card recipient.

The smile never leaving her face, Mai added to the boy's list: "And don't forget Mr. Davis."

Takeshi cocked his head to the side and laughed. "Oh, right. Can't forget Mama's boss!"

Patting the boy on the head. Mai stood back up to her full height and gestured toward the washroom. "Now go wash up, it's almost time for dinner and everyone will be coming soon."

"Ok!" The boy complied, running off to do as he was told.

The moment that Takeshi left the room, Mai's smile fell and she swayed slightly, catching herself by gripping the counter. Though she had done her best to hide her condition from her son, it was now painfully obvious to Oliver that she wasn't in the best of health... and he frowned at this.

The spirit beside him looked on with sympathy in his eyes as the woman panted and wiped a bit of sweat from her brow. "No doubt the cause of a thin coat in freezing weather," the robed man pointed out casually.

"No doubt," Noll agreed, blue eyes staying trained on his assistant as she tried to pull herself together. He wondered absently if she'd also concealed her sick state from him too, or if it had manifested itself after she'd left the office. Mai was known to hide her problems from everyone, but usually, he noticed when something was bothering her.

Or at least, that had used to be the case. Lately, it seemed she'd become rather good at hiding things from him too. Ever since her confession and the death of Gene, things between them had never really been the same.

Regardless, it bothered him greatly to see her bent over her kitchen counter, struggling to provide for her son. Something in him ached. "She never mentioned anything about being sick… She should have told me," he told the spirit, stepping closer to her. Mai looked so pale… it was a wonder he hadn't noticed before.

"She didn't want to burden you," the spirit told him casually.

"Why would she think I'd be burdened?"

"Because she's done it before, hasn't she?" the ghost questioned, looking at him with a weighted gaze. "Tried to lean on you, that is."

Oliver furrowed his brow at this and shook his head. He was aware this was in reference to the woman's confession… but he didn't find it very relevant. "This is different."

"Is it?"

The detective took a step back, eyes going back to Mai as she tried to regain her composure. The ache inside him grew.

"She tried to open up to you that day, did she not? You wouldn't accept it. You shut her out… and you've been shutting her out ever since."

"Because she was confused," Oliver snapped before he could stop himself, his fists clenching. His relationship with the woman had always been a sore topic.

"Was she the one who was?" the specter pressed, turning to face Noll fully. "I do not believe that there is a woman on Earth who would profess her love to the wrong man. Especially not one such as her," he continued, seeming genuinely confused, "Is she not trustworthy? Is she not genuine?"

Oliver scoffed at this. "Of course she is."

The ghost turned back to face Mai as she began to finish her task of making dinner. He sighed heavily, pitying her. "It was you who pushed her away… and yet you are surprised when she does not come running back in her time of need?"

"It was better that way…" Oliver explained, unsure why he felt the need to. "She deserved better."

The specter smiled knowingly, a hum on his lips. "She deserved Gene?"

While caught off guard by his words, Noll could not deny it. It was something he had always thought. He nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. The two of them had been such a perfect fit. They had complemented each other in ways he could never do… ways he had admitted to himself a long time ago that he couldn't be confident enough to do.

It might have seemed strange. Oliver Davis not being confident about something… but it was the unfortunate truth.

The spirit spoke again, breaking into his thoughts. "I cannot say I don't agree… and your brother loved her dearly, but he was not the one _she_ wanted."

"I… am aware," he said with uncharacteristic hesitance. The ache he felt was becoming too much the more they continued with this conversation. He wanted to stop.

He knew what the ghost was trying to get at. That day in the snow… Oliver had anticipated it long before it had happened. Mai had been so easy to read back then. She'd light up every time he entered a room and for the life of him he could never understand _why_. He was not good with matters of the heart… they had never interested him before, but for some reason with Mai it hadn't seemed like such a nuisance.

Naturally, that had frightened him.

Murders and thieves Oliver could deal with, and he had pretended to court many women in order to get information… but when it came to a woman's genuine affection for him, one that he might have possibly been able to return, he had found it terrifying.

In truth, whether Gene had felt affection for her or not, Oliver would have turned her down regardless… but while Mai was looking at him, he had been watching his brother look at her. Gene had looked so smitten… so helpless… Noll couldn't have helped but try to protect his poor brother from a broken heart.

So he had shut her out that day… and every day since.

"Gene, too, was aware," the Ghost of Christmas Present told him in such a way that it gave Oliver pause.

Considering his brother had been the first to warn him of his ghostly visitors to come, he wondered if it were possible that he had orchestrated all of this himself. Was Gene trying to tell him something?

Looking at Mai, he could guess what it was.

Days before his death, Gene had confronted Oliver about the incident with Mai.

Naturally, the simple fool had been more concerned with how the two of them felt than about his own feelings for the woman. Oliver had known all along that Gene would rather see his brother happy than be selfish, and so he had denied any accusation that he felt anything for Mai.

Gene, of course, knew he was lying… but he also knew how stubborn his brother was. The matter had been dropped, but could never be picked up again before his untimely death…

It was likely, Oliver supposed, that this was Gene trying to finish that conversation. It was so like that man… even in death, he didn't put himself first. Rather than tell him who killed him, Gene would rather play matchmaker. It was preposterous.

A knock at the door brought Oliver back out of his train of thought.

"I'll get it!" Takeshi shouted before his mother could move. Soon there was the sound of the door opening and the boy let out a pleased gasp. "Mama, it's the Reverend and his wife!"

The ghost and Oliver followed Mai as she walked out to greet her guests, a smile gracing her lips despite her hidden physical troubles. Reverend Brown stepped into the small home matching her smile with one of his own, his wife and three-year-old daughter not far behind.

"Oh, Masako, look at you," Mai gushed as the woman took off her coat to reveal a round pregnant belly. "You've grown so big."

"Far too big," Masako complained, tutting. "Grace was not nearly this large."

The two chuckled and embraced.

"Mai," John addressed, pulling off his coat, "You'll have to excuse the intrusion… but we've seem to have collected two extra mouths on our way here."

Mai tilted her head in confusion, only to gasp when two young ladies stepped into the still open doorway. One was a shy blonde and rather tall for her age, of which could not be more than sixteen, while the other was much shorter but slightly older with brown hair and a more outgoing demeanor.

Oliver recognized them both instantly, though both had grown since he'd last met them. They were Mai's adoptive children. Heather, the tall blond, had lost her parents in an unfortunate case that he and his brother had taken on. Unable to stand the idea of the girl being orphaned, Mai had taken her in. Martha, on the other hand, had been a street urchin she had come across. Being who Mai was, she had been unable to turn a blind eye to the girl's plight. And in the end, she had ended up with more mouths to feed.

"Heather, Martha… I didn't think the two of you could make it!" Mai exclaimed, pulling them both into a bone crushing hug. "But what of your apprenticeships?"

"The Reverend convinced Mr. Bradford that it was hardly humane to keep two daughters from their mother on Christmas," Martha stated matter-of-factly.

John laughed, "I merely explained your wish to see them, is all, and promised to have them back after Christmas post haste."

"Oh thank you, John," Mai sniffed, hugging him next, her eyes starting to water. Everyone smiled at her lovingly, as she tried not to cry and fanning herself with one hand, she motioned them all to come in fully as she went to shut the front door. "I have quite the full house this Christmas, don't I?" she laughed. "I don't know if I made enough…"

John waved her off, "Whatever it is we'll make due. What's more important is that we're all together."

"In any case, mother, you rest," Martha insisted pushing Mai toward a chair. "Heather and I will finish dinner."

The woman blinked, "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Heather also insisted, kissing her mother on the cheek.

The two girls rushed off into the kitchen after removing their coats, while Tenshi took Grace by the hand and lead her to where he'd started making Christmas cards. John and Masako joined Mai at the table, and the three of them began making small talk. Oliver zoned most of it out, his eyes trained on Mai who seemed to be still skillfully hiding her troubles.

Eventually, much to Oliver's surprise, the topic of conversation turned to him.

"Is Oliver making you work?"

"No, but I think I'd like to stop by for a moment…" Mai admitted absently.

Masako made a face and scoffed lightly. "Whatever for?" While once upon a time she had been interested in Oliver, she now criticized him just as freely as she would anyone else.

"Well, I'm sure he'll spend all day in the office like he normally does," Mai explained, brows furrowing. "I doubt he'll have many visitors…"

The pregnant woman shook her head, "I say if he wishes to be alone on Christmas, let him."

Mai smiled a sad but warm smile, her eyes lowering for a moment. "No one should be alone on Christmas," she told her friend firmly, believing it wholly. However, there was something else in her words. Something that went deeper than merely not wanting him to be alone because of a silly holiday.

John seemed to pick up on this because he gave her the sincerest of smiles. "All this time and you still love him."

Mai laughed and, while in the past such a thing may have gotten her flustered, she smiled in confirmation, her cheeks coloring only slightly. "I will always love him."

Suddenly Oliver felt very sick, the ache he felt inside of him making him pale.

For Mai to still love him…

After all this time…

After everything, he'd said and done…

He couldn't comprehend it, and he knew he didn't deserve it.

"Come, my time is nearing its end," the specter cut in, stepping in front of Naru's view of Mai. He looked considerably older since Naru had first happened upon him, but he did not point this out.

Reluctantly, Noll followed the ghostly figure out of the house and together they walked down the paved streets of London. Hours passed as the specter showed him many other homes and families preparing for Christmas. Some poor, some extravagant, but all merry and inviting. They watched and observed, not a single word ever passing between them as Oliver mulled over what he'd been showed thus far.

Eventually, they stopped before the clock tower, the minute hand moments from striking twelve.

All through their walk, the spirit had continued to age gradually, until now what stood before Oliver was not the young man from before but an older gentleman whose clothes now fit his heavier figure.

"Are spirit's lives so short?" he asked the ghost finally, feeling that their time together was nearly finished.

"My time is, unfortunately, a very brief one," he admitted with a nod, eyes not leaving the clock. "It ends tonight."

"Tonight?" Oliver echoed, with a frown. He supposed he saw the sense in it. A specter of the present should only exist for the present he supposed.

As he pondered this, something caught his eye about the phantom's robe. While at first he'd merely though the man had grown more portly, Oliver now realized that this was not the case. Rather, there was something else under his robe.

"Look here." Catching his gaze, the ghost pulled back his robe to reveal two small children clinging to him. One boy, one girl, both wretched and pitiful in appearance. Starved and dirty, they looked more like monsters than like humans in appearance. The sight of them caused even Oliver to step back, appalled. He did not mean to offend, but there was clearly the devil in them. Their presence alone was ominous.

"Are they yours?" he found himself asking, unsure as to why he was being shown them.

"No. They are mankind's... They cling to me appealing from their fathers," the spirit explained, looking down at them, "This boy is pride. This girl is ignorance. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!"

"Have they no refuge? No one to help them?"

"Money is all tied up in other things, Mr. Davis. They couldn't possibly be offered even a cent," the spirit spoke to him for the last time, uttering a variation of his own words as the clock struck twelve.

Oliver blinked as the last bell chimed, and the spirit was gone, leaving him alone on the dark street.

Remembering Gene's warning, he realized he still had one last spirit to go, and exhaling, he turned his head to find a hooded figure looming a distance away, more sinister than any other spirit before him as he advanced toward the detective like rolling mist.

* * *

**A/N:** Let's see if I can actually finish this time around. Hehe. If not by Christmas, then hopefully by New Years, no?

P.S. When writing this, the Hamilton song "Satisfied" kept popping into my head. Kinda fitting, a little.


End file.
